


Mickey D's

by Motteke_Star



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Another one of my abominations, Clearly a joke fic, Crack, Customer Service & Tech Support, Fast Food, Fat Shaming, Feeding, Mentions of just weird shit, Other, Weight Gain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 12:00:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29117910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Motteke_Star/pseuds/Motteke_Star
Summary: America gets really fat and decides to open a Mcdonald's chain. Chaos Ensues and America might just die, who knows?
Relationships: America (Hetalia)/Ronald McDonald
Comments: 4
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Back at it again with another absolute atrocity. I saw that someone uploaded a part of Japan's Homophobic Adventure on Instagram, and it ended up getting way more reads than I expected! So uh... Thanks! Anyways, hope you enjoy whatever the fuck this is.

America was on his bed, unable to move, his limbs felt as heavy as lead and a huge pool of sweat was beginning to build up on his brow. He was now suffering an agonising pain, a feeling so weighty, so suffocating- it has brought even the strongest of men to their knees:

The pain of a food coma.

“God I feel like I’m fucking pregnant…” America whined to himself, rubbing his massive belly as if there was a real foetus in there. But there wasn’t because this is NOT one of those types of fics.

Due to the astronomical size of his big fat blubbery stomach, America was not able to sit-up, nor move his torso in really any way, not even to turn on the TV so that he could at least watch Family Guy as he suffered. It had been a whole ten minutes since he had felt any sense entertainment, and for an American teen in the modern age to go that long, meant he was surely on the verge of a mental breakdown.

“Never before have I wanted to hear Lois’ shrill voice more than in this moment.” He groaned again, flailing his arms around and knocking a bunch of cardboard Mcdonald’s packaging around. Ah yes, the culprit of this whole food coma: Mickey D’s.

Just as America was cussing out his favourite fast-food chain, he heard a loud knock on the door, which he knew to be England’s due to the fact that he always knocked in a really sissy way. Like, y’know how gay people always kind of make it a song when they knock? Yeah, he did that.

“ENGLANDDDDDDDDD! COME IN HERE AND HELP! PLEASE, IT’S AN EMERGENCY!” America screamed, and he was almost as loud as a Karen when faced with adequate customer service. 

Almost.

England, outside, was deeply alarmed by America’s distress, jumping to the conclusion that something actually bad had happened and not just another one of America’s shitty first world problems.

So, he tried desperately to open the door- but it seemed that America for once had actually utilised his one singular braincell, and locked that puppy up more secure than the fucking Whitehouse in 2021.

England, aware of his twinkish figure, knew he would not be able to knock the door down, and so he did what twinks did best, and called up a bigger, stronger, much less metrosexual man to help him.

He called a locksmith.

Fast forward about half an hour, and England was tapping his foot impatiently as he waited for the Locksmith to finish changing the lock.  
You see, America may have shouted like a Karen earlier, but England actually WAS one, so he was pretty much rude and impatient around everyone he met. Some people called him a Tsundere, but really he was just an entitled prick- but hey, that’s the British! If you need more examples, just look up ‘my mother’ on Wikipedia.

“Christ, how long is this going to take? I might as well have just gotten one of my pixies to pick the lock.” England bitched, and the Locksmith turned around with a brow crinkled in annoyance.

“Pixies? Sir, are you on drugs? I don’t like to work for druggies, in case they overdose before they pay me- you know, it’s a more common occurrence than you would think-“

England cut him off like the interrupting bastard he was.

“Good heavens, I haven’t done a drug since the opium wars! Unless you count my Marijuana addiction in the 60’s, but I mean, is hash really all that bad? If John Lennon’s doing it, shouldn’t we all?”

“John Lennon was shot in the head, sir.” 

England shook his head in silence. Damn this gentleman and his historical facts. So what if Johnny boy ate lead? England was always right! Just ask all the colonies he exploited! They’ll definitely agree with him and totally don’t hate him for all his war crimes and inhumane actions :) 

“All right that will be 100 dollars.” The Locksmith asked, holding out his grubby hand for the money after packing up his tools.

England’s jaw dropped. That- that’s like 1000 tea bags or something! The sheer tomfoolery of it all!

“No! What the bloody hell, that’s so much money? Just who taught this country to be so capitalist?”

England then subsequently remembered that he was in fact the one that raised America, so he took out a glock he bought from Walmart and shot the locksmith in the face. He then proceeded to pick at the poor dead man’s pockets, because if Margaret Thatcher has taught England anything, it’s that you can’t let the poor own ANYTHING. Even when they’re dead.

“Let’s see if he has anything worth pinching… Ew who the fuck eats Trebor mints? Polo is the G.O.A.T in that department if you ask me. Ah yes. By jove.”

He threw the disgusting Trebor mints away somewhere and rushed into America’s place, pretending to be concerned just in case God was watching. (He never is, why do you think I write so many stories like this?)

England rushed in, following America’s pained moans until he found him on the bed. He shook America vigorously to wake him up, as the moans had stopped and America had passed out from sheer obesity.

“America, wake up! What the hell happened? You look like some sort of Deviant Art vore porn! Haha… Not that I would know what that’s looks like or anything.” 

America was awakened by the vibrations of fat rippling across his body due to all the shaking and stared up at England, his eyes adjusting to Iggy’s little soy boy face as he licked his drying lips.

“England… I can’t… Too much… Food.” He gasped, attempting to sit up again and obviously failing.

England was confused as hell, but slowly started to grasp the situation as he finally noticed all the fast food boxes surrounding the bed.

That fat son of a bitch-

“So you flailed around screaming and crying- and then quite literally FAINTED- because you ate too much blasted MCDONALDS?”

America nodded, though it was quite pathetic seeing as how his neck rolls were stopping him from really moving his head all that much.

England facepalmed so hard he knocked one of his brown British man teeth out (but didn’t even notice because they were so bad they fall out all the time anyways) before crossing his arms and sending America a glare sharp enough to break the wall Trump built. Oh wait he never actually built it did he-

“England I- I have one last request before all the cholesterol cancels my life span faster than MTV cancelled Clone High.” America said in a JFK voice. England didn’t get the reference because he’s a boomer and you probably didn’t either.

“Well, spit it out then.” England asked bitterly. 

“Fix my boney.” He moaned with the clarity of an underage anime girl.

“You what?” England asked, annoyed and choosing to wilfully not believe his ears.

“My Boneeeyyyyyyyy.” America moaned again, pointing his fat arms in the direction of his penis. 

England couldn’t actually see America’s erection, because it was covered by the hundreds of pounds of fat stored in America’s belly rolls, but he knew regardless that there was no way in hell he was going to touch America’s dick. With or without obesity in the picture.

“Bloody hell America- why do you do this to yourself? You eat so much you can’t even function! God, at this rate you might as well open your own fucking Mcdonald’s establishment- Y’know what, I’m leaving. You can sort yourself out.” England ranted, looking at America angrily as if he was a tin of lard and not a person, though, in reality, he wasn’t far off becoming one.

A lightbulb formed above America’s head. Yes, this was it- in order to get Mickey D’s whenever he wanted, he could open up his own chain! He’d get discounts and everything, and as many Coca Colas as he wanted (Diet of course, he wasn’t THAT fat).

As England slammed the door, America let out a couple Earth-Shattering farts until he managed to deflate himself like a sad whoopy cushion, got up, and decided to make a few business calls.


	2. Uhmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I gotttTTttttt bored as fuck so uhm this is the last chapter teehee uwuw OWOWOOWOWOWOWOWOOWOWWOWOOWOWOWOW sayonara gomennsaisa

America had no idea how the fuck he was gonna carry on with the story so he did an orgasm-inducing time skip of a month and wow he was in his new Mcdonald’s restaurant! Business was going good because Biden paid for everything. He was America’s sugar daddy and he only made him suck him off SOMETIMES so it was pretty epic.

“It smells like piss in here.” A customer said, they were very customer like, so much so that they bought some food and digested it in a timely manner.   
America chuckled and suddenly he was on a Quirky TV show.

“Well shucks, silly me, for dear customer, I fear I have PISSED myself.” He joked, and a live studio audience that didn’t exist laughed in the background. On the other side of the counter, unbeknownst to anyone, piss ran down America’s trouser leg.

“Jesus Christ, does this not break Health Code violations? I’m outta here.” The customer said, who could clearly see the piss so I guess it kinda WAS known. America didn’t want to miss this amazing business opportunity of gaining like 3 dollars for a cheeseburger sale, so he ran after the customer dramatically. A loud sploshing noise erupted through the air as he walked.

“W- what was that sound?” The customer asked, turning around just as America had caught up to them.

“Well, dear customer, don’t you know that pee is stored in the ass?” America educated, shaking his hips a bit to emphasize his point, as his ass cheeks rippled and made splashing noises as they clapped together. 

The customer stared at him with a horrified look on his face, but he didn’t notice because AN EXCRUCIATINGLY PAINFUL SHOCK started travelling through his delicious ass cheeks and forced him to grab his ass in surprise.

“Oh God my water broke.” America cried, and the Live Studio audience laughed so loud it ear-raped everyone and the show ended.

America ran to the bathroom clutching his rippling cheeks and opened a stall, sitting down on the toilet without thinking. Suddenly he felt something enter his butthole- it was long, fat, and super squishy, and it reached so far up there it tickled his virgin G-Spot.

“Hnggggg.” America cried, and he looked down to see his penis standing erect. “A boneyy??? At work???”

The Mcdonald’s theme song played. You know the one. Du du du du du~

He quickly whipped his phone out and turned the camera on, positioning it below his ass so that he could see what had entered it. It was brown, and a lot of it was smeared all over his liquidy cheeks.

“Oh God… I sat on some shit someone left on the toilet seat and it entered-“ America began, but his sentence was finished by someone else.

“Your fat juicy ass.” 

America’s eyes dotted to the source of the noise, and it turned out to be none other than Ronald Mcdonald! Who was staring up at America lustfully from under the cubical.

The sexy clown dislocated his joints and crawled under the stall like the girl from the ring before popping those babies back into place, and giving America a charming grin with his overlined red clown lips.

“That doesn’t seem to be following the health code.” Ronald whispered hotly in America’s ear, sending a shiver down the fat bastard’s spine.

“R-Ronald… I didn’t think my inspection was for another few days…” America moaned, fidgeting a bit, causing the poop to move upwards and massage his prostate firmly. He jolted as Ronald Mcdonald inched further, his hands nearing dangerously close to America’s butt.

See, Ronald got fired a while ago from being the Maccies Mascot because he scared children so much they shitted (and came) their pants, so he now has a job as the head of health inspections at Mickey D’s. He would go around America and check out Mcdonald’s establishments, and it seems that he had decided to come earlier than usual to America’s joint. 

Anyways, disregarding his current occupation for a bit, Ronald’s hand had soon touched America’s entrance, and he let out a soft uwu anime girl moan, that strangely sounded like the Mcdonald’s theme song again, causing Ronald’s pickle to become ripe and ready to serve, if you catch my drift.

Ronald quickly scraped the poop out of America’s ass, somehow not noticing how horny this was making America become. He kept uwuing and rawr xding n shit, but Ronald still continued to scrape the poop like some diligent robot.

“Unghhhh…. My boneyyy… I’m McLovin thissssssssss.” America moaned cutely and came all over his McDonald’s uniform, creating a new special sauce that he added to the menu later-on that day.

Ronald ignored his erect pickle, as he gave America a pat on the arm with his shitty shit poo poo hands and a thumbs up, before leaving into the mist and suddenly it was a really sad shoujo anime and Ronald was on his plane leaving for some European country.

America committed seppuku and the Mcdonalds burnt down sadly. England stood over America’s grave and scattered French fries on it.

“It’s what he would have wanted…” England cried and shitted.


End file.
